Let It All Out
by LM Simpson
Summary: Flintheart/Scrooge oneshot. Someone needs to have a chat with McDuck.


**Title: **Let It All Out

**Author: **LM Simpson (Kady the Red Panda)

**Pairing(s): **Flintheart/Scrooge

**Rating: **T

**Warning(s): **Death, slash, some language

**Disclaimer: **Disney would definitely kill me for this. Yep yep yep…

**Other tidbits: **I'm on a Flintheart/Scrooge kick. They're another duck couple I like.

0000

A knock.

"Come in, McDuck."

Scrooge entered Flintheart Glomgold's office. It appeared smaller than McDuck's own, but with all the animal skins and mounts removed, it was actually larger. He arrived at Flintheart's elephantine desk after dodging a pouncing stuffed leopard.

A green glass bottle and two clear glasses rested on the desktop.

Flintheart cleaned his glasses and put them back on. "Care for a drink, McDuck?"

A shaken head. "Knowing you, it's probably drugged."

Flintheart emitted a single laugh. "Well then, more for me!" He poured a clear spirit into a glass and drank. "Seems fine to me!"

Scrooge crossed his arms and hmmphed. "I would like to know this right this instant: why did you summon me to South Africa? And at no cost to me, at that?" Normally Scrooge adored deals like this, but Flintheart was never one for charity.

He drank again. The glass was now half-full. "I need to discuss something with you."

"And you couldn't do it by phone?" Even if it cost money to _parlez-vous_, at least he wasn't within feet from Glomgold. Scrooge felt this would not end well.

A shaken head. "I wanted to see your reaction first hand."

Scrooge's stomach pained. This was definitely not going to end well, whatever Flintheart wanted to pull on him. "Well, I'm right in front of you, Flintheart. What do you want, then?"

One large chug later, the empty glass made a thud when it hit the desk. Flintheart adjusted his glasses and cleaned them again even though he already did so minutes earlier. Scrooge tapped his foot and frowned. He opened his mouth and swiftly shut it back up again. He rehearsed the whole scene in his head multiple times over the years but only now did he experience stage fright.

_Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all…_

Scrooge growled. If there was only one thing he hated more than wasting money, it was wasting time. "I'm waiting, Flinty…"

Flinty. He heard Scrooge call him that countless times before, but now it began to eat him up. Damn him for that. Damn him for that bloody pet name…

Scrooge's face softened. "Flintheart? What's wrong, man?"

Flintheart's crying was initially soft, muffled by his face-obscuring hands. Then it progressively became more childlike, more wild, as if Flintheart was crying over not enough presents and sweets on his fourth birthday party.

Scrooge expected _something _to occur, but _this _was not it. He slowly repeated his question. He felt more uncomfortable and confused with each sob. It couldn't had been something he said—unless, something he said broke the stallion's spirit…

Living with his nephews softened him. Even though his interests remained the same, and he was still rough and tough (especially for a man his age), the boys also brought out his paternal side, one he thought would never emerge, let alone develop. As awkward as it was to counsel another old man, let alone another old man that was his rival, his parental side begged to intervene.

Scrooge forwarded a hand onto Glomgold's shoulder. "Flintheart."

Apart from shivering upon contact, he still cried.

Scrooge's free hand played with his collar. "If something I said… _hurt _you in anyway, well I, uh… _apologize…_"

Flintheart ceased. "You don't know the half of it, McDuck…"

"Hmm? …What do you mean, man?"

Flintheart's arms dropped to his sides, his eyes red and wet. He looked like a pathetic old man, not the confident, prideful Flintheart Glomgold Scrooge McDuck was familiar with.

He sniffed, and said without emotion:

"I'm tired of living a lie."

Scrooge blinked. "What?"

"I'm tired… of living… a lie," he repeated, become more hysterical each time. "I'm tired of living a lie… I'm tired of living a lie! I'm! Tired! Of! Living! A! Lie!"

Flintheart cackled. The other duck pulled his hand back, but not before Flintheart pulled it and its owner towards himself. He only managed to kiss Scrooge twice when McDuck pulled back and slapped him.

McDuck shook, shocked and flushed. "What the bloody hell was _that?_"

Glomgold's palm rubbed his sore temple. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that, McDuck," he calmly replied.

Flintheart impulsively lunged over his desk and grabbed Scrooge's hand again. McDuck squirmed as he said:

"McDuck, the reason I brought you to South Africa today is because I thought the time was right to tell you I love you. Yes, I have loved you since the moment I first saw you! I have waited many years to kiss you like I just did!"

Scrooge's bill quivered and his head shook frantically. His pupils shrunk. His heart beat and his blood pressure rose. "N-n-no… N-n-no! _No! _Are you telling me, Flintheart Glomgold, that you—"

"Yes, McDuck! I'm gay, a homosexual, a faggot, a queer, a… _Bottomfucker_!" He said, stating the last term with absolute disgust. "And _you_, Scrooge McDuck, are the man I love! I believe it's obvious that this disgusts you, _Scroogey?_"

He grunted as he pulled back. "Disgust is the mildest word for it!" Scrooge raised his free hand to slap him again.

"Save your _sissy _slaps for another time!" Flintheart cried out before letting go. "If you were a _real _man, you would have _punched me out_!"

Scrooge backed up. "Why me?" He yelled. "Why are you in love with _me, _of all the men in the world?"

"You and me are not so different at the end of the day," he said, "We fought to the top and we still fight for it to this day. We have loves that we can never have to keep: you with Goldie, and me with you! We are both handsome, clever, _cunning_! You are my dream man! In fact, I have dreamed of you in particular since the day I've met you! …"

Scrooge shivered. "Please tell me _I'm _dreaming!"

"This is no dream! Why, I only have two regrets: that I wasn't born a girl, and that I've hurt you over the years…"

Scrooge turned green. He hoped he could dash to Flintheart's trash can in time.

His smile was sad as his eyes moistened again. "And with that, I am done…"

Scrooge noticed his rival removing something from his coat pocket and gasped. He swiftly recomposed himself before stating:

"Flinty put the gun down."

He aimed the revolver at his temple. "I should've seen this coming. You've won, Scrooge. You're the one that will die on top…"

"Flinty, put the gun down!"

"Why should I? You're actually my complete antithesis! I'm _nothing_ compared to you, Scrooge! I've been a scoundrel, an outlaw, an _abomination _since the day I was born! You are a _saint_ compared to me! I was never as good as you, and I never _will _be as good as you! You've won! You've won!"

Scrooge shook his head. "Flinty! Put the gun down! You're not thinking clearly! I'm not in love with you in 'that way,' but you still have the same right to live as I do! You're still human!" He pointed to the floor and stomped his foot. "Now, put the gun down!"

Flintheart shook his head. Tears rolled down his face. It was time to end this internal, eternal suffering… permanently. His finger began pushing against the trigger.

"Flinty, put that bloody gun down!"

Scrooge pounced, grabbed at the gun. Both men struggled, grunting as they competed in a tug-o-war over the revolver.

A gunshot filled the office.

Flintheart Glomgold, splattered with blood all over his face, beard, and clothing, stared in horror. Instead of his temple, the bullet struck McDuck's. He killed him. He killed the man he loved. He expired immediately, without emitting a cry or a groan. The lifeless eyes shook his soul.

To hell with riches, which could always go to someone else anyway. To hell with his servants, who always attempted to spit in his meals anyway. To hell with everything, which amounted to nothing anyway. He did many horrible things in his lifetime, but causing Scrooge McDuck's death was the worst. There was no way he could live with this.

Tear faced Flintheart placed the bloodstained revolver to his head, closed his eyes, gulped, and pulled the trigger.

THE END


End file.
